


Frenemy territory

by morporkian_hobbit



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Graphic Description of Injuries, Hurt/Comfort, Trans Character, but it's not explicit bc i know a lot of folks don't ship it, don't have a cis character unless it serves the plot, goemon is flustered, jigen is supportive, like... no one's transphobic but transphobia is mentionned, lowkey suggested zenigata x yata, lupin is panicking too, more hurt than comfort but still, suggested transphobia, they're all trans except lupin for plot reason, zenigata is panicking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:47:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25607611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morporkian_hobbit/pseuds/morporkian_hobbit
Summary: When they arrive on the site of their next heist, all Lupin's Gang finds is the loot already gone, and a beaten up Inspector Zenigata.When he wakes up in Lupin's safe-house, Zenigata has to deal with the fact that he's injured, stuck in enemy territory, and that his lifelong rival now knows that he's transgender.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Frenemy territory

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, the idea behind this one-shot was just "What if Pops was trans" and then "WHAT IF EVERYONE WAS TRANS". I just built around it.
> 
> As usual, huge thanks to my trusty beta, J, for his corrections on my English, and his advice on how to write trans men when you're a cis woman.
> 
> If I made any mistake in depicting trans characters, or accidentally wrote something offensive, please don't hesitate to tell me so that I can correct it.
> 
> Bonus points to anyone who recognizes the location reference.

A successful arrest is a quick arrest. One where the police get to the crime scene before the criminals have left, where they outnumber and circle the robbers, and ideally, where the latter realise their mistake and surrender without fighting. Of course that is quite a rare occurrence, and most officers of Interpol would settle for calling successful an arrest with a bit of struggling, maybe a few warning gunshots, as long as all the goods are retrieved, the criminals are cuffed, and no one is hurt.

This had not been a successful arrest.

It would even be a lie to say that everything had started well. It hadn’t. Firstly, because there had been no team to act as back-up for inspector Zenigata. He had acted on a hunch and offered his services to the small, mostly unnoticeable museum of the sea-side town of La Coruña in Spain, as soon as the news had come that it would participate in an exchange with the Del Prado of Madrid. It wasn’t going to acquire more than two famous art pieces, the rest being low level paintings and obscure statues of seconds-rate Greek gods. But Zenigata knew Lupin, and this was the kind of heist he just _might_ try to pull off, just to see if he could. The inspector’s initiative had been frowned upon by Interpol, and they had refused to lend him any officers for backup. Even his trusted assistant, Yatagarasu, was busy on a different case for the time being. Zenigata would have to make-do with the museum’s meagre security systems and a few underpaid guards.

That was until the calling card came – just twenty-four hours before the date and time it announced. Zenigata had sent a triumphant message to his superiors, who had begrudgingly accepted to send him a few men.

An hour before the heist, they had not arrived yet…

Unlike a band of six balaclava-wearing armed thugs who had broken into the museum.

They looked nothing like Lupin’s gang, and had invaded the place in an awfully graceless and indiscreet way – by shattering the glass door with a makeshift battering ram. They had immediately made a beeline for the room where the two paintings where being exhibited, and where, coincidentally, the lonely inspector was standing, handcuffs in hand. If Zenigata had at first been startled by the presence of thieves other than Lupin and his friends, he had quickly gotten over his surprise. Lupin or not, these people were here to steal something that he was supposed to protect. Even without backup, it was his duty to do as much as possible to stop these intruders.

Armed only with a gun, a few pairs of handcuffs (which he wielded expertly), and his steel-strong sense of duty, the inspector put up a determined fight and even knocked out two of his assailants. Of course, one man alone against six armed criminals couldn’t stand much of a chance. Especially when said criminals didn’t have the moral restraint Zenigata was used to with his usual target. The fight had ended a few seconds and a few gunshots later, and the thieves had run off with the two paintings hastily covered in craft paper.

More importantly (although, to Zenigata, the order of priority was questionable), the fight had ended with the inspector laying on the floor in foetal position, clutching his chest and his arm to (rather unsuccessfully) stop his blood from gushing out of multiple gunshot wounds. His vision was hazy and red, and he barely heard the thieves leave. A tiny part of him was scolding himself for having failed to stop them, but it was drowned out by the insufferable ache radiating from every cut, bruise and hole in his skin.

This was _not_ a successful arrest.

Zenigata was too overwhelmed by pain to register what was going on around him. He had received several bullet wounds, too many to count at the moment, that were throbbing and sending spikes of white-hot pain though his body. His chest ached, he was almost sure he a broken rib or two, and his binder was too tight and hindered his already weak breathing. Not to mention all the bruises where he had been kicked, punched or where he had fallen on the ground. He was fighting with all his might against a wave of pulsing, blinding red mist in his brain, to try and stay conscious.

The inspector could only vaguely perceive some noise and movement around his own little throbbing universe. Soft footfall quickly shuffling in, then stopping dead. A shout. Some quieter voices. A concerned tone. A panicked one. Zenigata battled against unconsciousness to try and make out what the voices were saying, but quickly gave up. They sounded familiar. He hoped it was Interpol’s backup. That theory seemed to confirm itself when two strong arms picked him up from the cold, hard floor and carried him up to his feet.

“Pops. Pops, stay with us,” a faint voice urgently called out to him from the other side of the thick red fog in his mind. The words weren’t clear to him, but he got the idea.

“I am,” he replied, but it only came out as a pathetic whimper, prompting the arms that were holding him to tighten their grip. Zenigata felt himself being shifted around – the person holding him was now carrying him bridal style, but he was too out of it to realize that. He only noticed strong, calloused hands cradling his head and making sure it didn’t fall to the side, while other hands pressed hard on his wounds, making him jolt and whimper. He felt himself being carried away and out of the building, then into a car, as the vibrations and the noise suggested. After that, whatever happened to him didn’t quite reach his brain, and he ended up passing out before he could reach whatever destination he was being taken to.

* * *

The Fiat was driving way past the speed limit in the streets of La Coruña, weaving through the (thankfully light) traffic and violently honking at anyone and anything that stood in its path. Behind the wheel, Lupin was frowning and cursing like a sailor.

“It’s not gonna help any of us if we have a car accident, mate,” Jigen called out from the passenger seat.

“We _won’t_ ,” the thief replied between gritted teeth. “We’re nearly there anyway.”

“Good,” Goemon commented with a stern but slightly worried voice. “I covered his injuries, but he is still bleeding. There is only so much I can do without proper medical equipment.”

Lying in his lap, eyes closed and brow furrowed, was Inspector Zenigata. The poor man’s clothes were torn and soaked with blood, and he whimpered in his sleep – more of a half-comatose state than an actual rest, really. The samurai had summarily patched up the gravest wound using his sarachi, and was pressing down on the others using torn shreds of the inspector’s shirt.

A few minutes later, the Fiat came to a screeching halt in front of an understated and unremarkable apartment building. Lupin nearly burst out of the car, Jigen following him closely, and they helped Goemon carry the inspector’s limp body out of the backseat. Zenigata’s eyes fluttered open for a few seconds. He mumbled some incomprehensible gibberish, then fell back into slumber. Lupin and Goemon exchanged a worried glance, before the samurai carried the wounded inspector in his arms and followed his two partners into the building, up the narrow staircase and into a small, messy apartment.

“Goemon, bring Zenigata to the bedroom,” Lupin instructed in a tense but authoritative voice. “Jigen, get the medical kit. It should be somewhere in the bathroom cupboard. I’m gonna make sure everything’s safe.”

Both men nodded, and swiftly went on to carry out their assigned tasks, while the thief locked all three bolts on the door, peered out the window and checked on a small screen a camera feed showing the entrance of the building. After a few minutes, he declared himself satisfied with the lack of any suspicious activity.

“Goemon is taking care of Pops,” Jigen declared as he walked back into the living room, and gestured towards the closed bedroom door. “We’ll have to throw away the bedsheets, though.”

Lupin shrugged, before grabbing the bag he had discarded upon arriving, and starting to put away its contents – mostly gadgets and tools of the trade that he had been planning to use on the heist.

“It doesn’t matter. How’s he doing?”

Jigen hesitated a bit, not wanting to worry his partner too much, but also not wanting to lie to him.

“He’ll be fine. Most of them are flesh wounds, and none seem lethal. But he’s lost a lot of blood.”

Silence fell on the two men, as Jigen stared worriedly from under the brim of his hat, and Lupin continued his chores.

“Lupin… What do we do now?”

The thief didn’t even bother turning towards his partner.

“We take care of him until he’s stable enough to be taken to a hospital,” he declared in a determined voice. “I’m going to call Interpol – no idea why he was alone, but as far as I’m concerned, they’re just as responsible as whoever did this to him. They at least need to know that he’s fine.”

“Don’t you think we’re responsible too?” Jigen asked. “We’re the reason he was in that museum in the first place.”

“I am,” Lupin replied, tone grave and head down, refusing to look at the gunman as he finished placing the last of his gadgets into a drawer. “And I’m making it up to him by rescuing him.”

It went without saying that all of them would have done so whether or not they had been responsible for the inspector’s injuries. Zenigata had helped Lupin and the rest of the gang before when they had been in dire situations, it was only fair that they’d do the same. Not to mention the fact that, to the thieves, Zenigata was almost like a father. After all, that was the reason they called him Pops.

They were both sitting on the worn-out sofa and discussing the best course of action when Goemon quietly stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Lupin and Jigen looked up, intrigued. There was no way the samurai was done tending to the inspector’s wounds after just five minutes.

“Jigen… I believe you are more qualified than I am to take care of this specific matter,” Goemon declared. His cheeks were flushed pink, and he was clutching Zantetsuken protectively, something he rarely did unless he was deeply embarrassed – or worried that Fujiko would steal it, but usually the second situation implied the first.

Jigen smiled inwardly. Goemon was as good a medic as anyone in the gang, so it wasn’t a lack of skills that was making him hesitant.

“Come on, man,” he called out to the samurai. “You’ve seen a dick before.”

The comment only succeeded in making Goemon grow even redder.

“I have. Still, I think you should take care of the inspector.”

He didn’t say anything more, but his pleading eyes spoke for him. Still confused about what might have embarrassed Goemon so much, Jigen nodded and stood up, walking to the bedroom. Goemon thanked him with a curt nod and went to sit down on the floor in front of the couch, eyes closed, immediately falling deep into meditation.

Inside the bedroom, Zenigata was laying on the bed, seeming peacefully asleep save for a few twitches now and then. His pale skin and the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead would give away his state though, if the blood and injuries hadn’t already done that. Goemon had started cutting off the inspector’s clothes to get to his wounds. Shreds of his already torn up coat, jacket and shirt were now lying on the floor and the bed, exposing his bare chest.

…Ah.

Rummaging through the pile of clothes, Jigen found what he was looking for. There were the remains of a binder, soaked in blood and cleanly cut off by Zantetsuken. The gunman felt a twinge in his heart, knowing that he was intruding on Zenigata’s intimacy. His trans identity was something that the inspector clearly didn’t want the world to know. Goemon had been right to ask him for help, though. The samurai was non-binary himself, but had never had any problems with his masculine body and never undergone any kind of medical procedure. Which explained his embarrassment upon seeing Zenigata, and his decision not to intrude any more than he already had.

Of course, that twinge Jigen felt had nothing to do with the fact that the inspector somewhat reminded the gunman of his younger self.

The gunman locked away any feelings or worries he might have about Zenigata’s state – and God knew he had many – and set to work on his wounds, cleaning them with water then with disinfectant, bandaging the lighter ones, and applying an anaesthetic on the larger ones before carefully stitching them closed. He had to dig bullets out of two of them, and wrapped them in a tissue before stuffing them in his pockets. The inspector was twisting and whimpering beneath him, but Jigen’s iron grip kept his limbs steady at least long enough to take care of the wounds. Once he was certain there was no internal bleeding or broken bones and that everything was cleaned, bandaged and sewed shut, he grabbed the medical kit and the pile of clothes and exited the bedroom, leaving Zenigata to rest and heal on his own. He headed straight for the bathroom, silently walking past Lupin who watched him without a word, then dropped the pile into the shower and tucked the kit away in a drawer.

“Pops is fine – for now at least,” he declared as he stepped into the living room again. Lupin was still on the couch, looking through a pile of documents, and Goemon was nowhere in sight. “I patched him up and he’s fallen asleep. D’you have news on your end?”

The thief nodded.

“I called Interpol’s office in Japan, that’s the only number I have,” he explains. “I talked to a very angry young man named Yatagarasu, who demanded to know what we had done to Zenigata. He didn’t seem too happy about me calling Interpol, but he calmed down when I explained the situation.”

“And?”

“He’s going to contact the Spanish office and they’ll take care of Pops from there. That is, after we make sure he’s alright, of course.”

Jigen nodded. They had agreed they wouldn’t release Zenigata to Interpol until they were sure he was stable enough to move, and they had the guarantee that they wouldn’t get handcuffed as soon as they stepped out of the flat. Yata seemed to be their best option for a proxy, he had his boss’s safety at heart more than Lupin’s arrest. Unfortunately, the gang wasn’t sure that was the case for the rest of Interpol.

“I’m going out,” the gunman declared while making his way to the door. “I need to buy some stuff. If Pops wakes up, give me a shout. And let Goemon handle it.” He waved his phone at Lupin before tucking it in his jacket’s inside pocket.

“Hey wait!” Lupin called out. “Why did Goemon ask you to take care of Pops yourself?”

Jigen shrugged, without bothering to turn towards Lupin.

“There were a few wounds he didn’t know how to treat,” he lied. Goemon already knew, but Jigen had no reason to out Zenigata to Lupin if the inspector hadn’t done so himself. Although, he had a feeling it wouldn’t take too long for the thief to figure out why the only trans man in the gang had to take care of Zenigata. Jigen ignored Lupin’s insistence that Goemon was perfectly capable of carrying out any first-aid task. He pulled his hat over his eyes and closed the door behind him.

* * *

It was hours later when inspector Zenigata finally cracked an eye open. His ribs hurt, as did a thousand other spots in his body, and he had a headache, but at least there was no white-hot mind-numbing throbbing pain anymore. He mentally checked that all limbs were accounted for, and smiled inwardly when they were.

Carefully opening his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that there was light where he was. The heist had taken place during the night, that meant he must have been out of it for several hours. At least.

The second thing was that this was very much _not_ a hospital room. This realisation made his heartbeat speed up. Interpol or the local police would have taken him to a hospital. On the other hand, whoever had taken him in had done a rather good job of patching him up. That placed them on the “allies” list – at least for now.

The third thing he noticed, was that he was only wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Not even his own t-shirt (although those were his own boxers, thank God). And it was unfortunately very obvious that he didn’t have bulges where he should, and he had some where he shouldn’t. Something that the person who had undressed him and tended to his wounds must have noticed, without a shadow of a doubt.

Zenigata’s heart tightened. No one in his entourage knew he was trans, besides his doctors, his partner and his ex-wife, but she didn’t count as entourage. If he was lucky, maybe the people who had rescued him would be open-minded and not misgender him every chance they got. Otherwise… That was just one more problem he would have to deal with.

Zenigata very slowly and carefully sat up on the bed, wincing when a choir of protest rose up from every square inch of his body, and let his legs fall off the bed. He took a few tentative steps towards the window. His legs were weak and shaky, but they could still carry him. That was good news. He peered out of the window, only to see the dirty grey façade of the opposite building across the street. There were street lamps and several apartment buildings – in this sort of neighbourhood, he doubted they were individual houses. A few passers-by were walking on the sidewalks, but the menacing cloud cover and the faraway sound of the agitated sea seemed to dissuade most of the inhabitants from going out. From what Zenigata could tell, he was still in La Coruña, or a similar neighbouring town; but he wouldn’t learn anything more from looking at this nameless street.

The bedroom he had been resting in was tiny. There was barely enough space to walk besides the double bed, and the wardrobe was embedded inside one of the walls. This was clearly a place that was being lived in, and that the owner hadn’t had the time to clean before they brough the inspector in. There were a few t-shirts strewn on the floor, as well as books, an empty coffee mug, and a few more items that Zenigata didn’t bother examining any further. He eventually noticed a small bundle of folded clothes neatly set at the end of the bed, with a square of white paper pinned to it. He frowned and reached for the note.

“ _We had to cut your clothes to take them off,_ ” it read _. “Sorry about that. They were ruined anyways. We got you these instead._ - _Jigen_ ”

Zenigata tensed upon reading the signature, and accidentally crumpled the paper. Well, at least that answered one of his questions. It also raised several more, which he didn’t really want to bring up with Lupin’s gang. But he would have to, eventually. Right now, he could only guess that they hadn’t brought him to a hospital because they wanted to keep an eye on him – as long as he was out of the action, they could go on as many heists as they damn well pleased, and no amount of policemen or armed security guards could stop them.

The inspector let the crumpled note flutter down to the floor, and looked through the pile. There was a white shirt, a pair of grey trousers, and a sports bra. So, his binder had been destroyed, too, he thought as he felt a heavy stone fall in his stomach. They probably didn’t know the difference anyways. This was just _great_.

He painfully slipped on the clothes, bending himself into awkward shapes to try and avoid rubbing on his wounds. They looked brand new, albeit a bit cheap, and were exactly his size. He then ran a hand though his short-cropped hair and looked at his reflexion in the window. He looked like hell, his hair was a mess, and his chest was still visible despite the bra. He sighed, then took a deep breath. It wasn’t like his appearance mattered anyways. Jigen – or whoever had taken care of him – had already seen him naked and covered in blood anyway. Zenigata braced himself to face the three thieves, and most likely the snide comments about his state, the probable misgendering, and the general sense of helplessness. Whatever happened, he’d keep up a front, bear everything and find a way to get out of here.

The handle clicked loudly when Zenigata pressed it, and the door swung open to reveal a messy living room illuminated by a large window. Jigen was lounging on the couch, alone. He sprung up as soon as he heard the inspector walk in, going from laid down and relaxed to standing up in a mere second.

“Pops! You’re up and walking already!” he exclaimed, relief and worry both audible in his voice.

Zenigata stopped in his tracks, not expecting the friendly welcome – or at least friendly coming from Jigen, who usually greeted people with the barrel of a gun. The familiar nickname comforted him a bit. At least he wasn’t back to inspector, or even sir – or ma’am. Zenigata shuddered at the thought.

“I… I am,” he stuttered. “Where’s Lupin? And Goemon?” he added, almost as an afterthought – it was not a surprise to anyone that his first concern would be for his rival’s whereabouts.

“They’re out on an errand,” the gunman replied before stepping towards him. “Here, lemme see your bandages.”

He reached out a hand to Zenigata’s shoulder, making the inspector flinch and take a step back, almost involuntarily. Jigen stopped and held out his hands.

“It’s fine, I’m not gonna hurt you,” he declared in as soft a voice as he could manage. “I just need to check if they need changing, ‘s’all.”

Zenigata seemed to hesitate a bit, then he relaxed and sighed.

“Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jigen retorted as he led Zenigata back into the bedroom. “I get it.”

The inspector sat on the edge of the bed, trying his best not to tense up when Jigen sat next to him, and failing miserably.

“I’m gonna need you to take off your shirt,” the gunman asked. “Or do you want me to get it for ya?”

“ ‘s fine,” Zenigata muttered.

He complied, jaw clenched and keeping his eyes resolutely on the ground. However, Jigen didn’t seem to give a damn about seeing the inspector shirtless, or about his chub, or his bulging chest, or the myriad of scars that had been left from his many “work-related accidents”. He was only here to do one thing, and that was checking that the bandages weren’t soaked in blood. Only the one on Zenigata’s arm was, so Jigen foraged a bit through the first-aid kit he had brought and pulled out a roll of gauze. Without a word, he carefully untied the bloodied bandage and dropped it at his feet, before cleaning the wound with a cloth soaked in disinfectant.

“Tell me if this hurts,” he asked, more for the image than by real need – this kind of operation always stung, and they both knew it.

Zenigata simply shook his head, and let Jigen work.

A minute or two later, the gunman packed all his supplies back into their box and gave a friendly pat on the inspector’s shoulder before standing up.

“All set. You’ll be as good as new in just a few weeks.”

Zenigata gave him a weak smile and nodded.

“Thanks. And… Thanks for the clothes, too.”

Jigen’s eyes darted to the inspector’s chest for just a split second, before coming back to his eyes. Zenigata felt his face redden, and put his shirt back on to give himself a composure.

“No worries,” Jigen replied. “It’s only natural, seeing as we’re the ones who ruined them.” He hesitated for a second, fingers fiddling with his shirt sleeve. “Sorry about the binder,” he added. “I ordered you a new one, but you know how long these things take to arrive. And my old ones would have been too small for you.”

Zenigata stared at Jigen, a bit slack-jawed. He was dumbfounded, both because this was probably the longest sentence the gunman had ever said to him, and because…

“…You’re trans too?”

Jigen simply shrugged.

“Yeah. In fact, Lupin is literally the only cis person in our gang. I’m just the only who’s… ya know. In the same case as you. None of us is going to out you, don’t worry.”

The inspector was about to reply something, but he choked on words and ended up coughing instead.

“You’re… They’re…” he tried, before taking a deep breath, under Jigen’s amused glance. “They’re fine with you telling me that?”

“Yeah, they are,” the gunman chuckled. “You’re basically family, you know.”

Zenigata tried his best not to choke on air again. No, he didn’t know. Would Jigen just stop dropping bombs on him like that?

“Thank you,” he mutters under his breath. “This means a lot.”

It was unclear whether he meant the binder or the fact that he was family. What was clear was that he was not going to expand on the subject.

“Why do you still wear those?” Jigen carefully asked, leaning back on the wall and looking at the inspector.

Zenigata shrugged.

“I wish I didn’t have to, but Interpol’s pay is rubbish. I’m trying to save up, but it doesn’t seem to be leading anywhere.”

Jigen silently stared at him from under the brim of his hat. The inspector couldn’t read his stern face, and the examination made him feel a bit uncomfortable – unless that was the tight bandages, or the multiple gun wounds, or the blood loss, or just the fact that he was injured and stuck in enemy territory.

“They clearly don’t pay you enough for everything you do for them,” the gunman finally declared. “I’ll bring you something to drink. Stay in bed.”

He straightened up and walked out of the bedroom. The inspector obediently fell back on the bed, eliciting a small grunt of pain when his wounds reminded themselves to him. The massive pillows helped him sit upright, but that wasn’t of much use, the door was just as boring to watch as the ceiling. Jigen walked back in a minute later, carrying an ice-cold glass of water that he handed over to the inspector. Zenigata gladly took it, even if the freezing water made him wince a bit.

“…Jigen?” the inspector called out after a few seconds of hesitation.

“Mmh?”

“Do you have a phone I could call from?” he asked. “I won’t tell anyone where I am. I just need to tell them I’m safe.”

He didn’t really know what his status was – patient, or prisoner – but until now, Lupin’s gang had only shown kindness to him. His caution was just a habit, a reflex that came naturally whenever he was in a situation that he couldn’t control. And even with Jigen’s helpful attentions to make him comfortable, he still felt awfully vulnerable and weak, and he didn’t truly know if he was allowed to reach out to Interpol, or anyone for that matter.

Thankfully Jigen simply nodded, and handed him a mobile phone he kept in his pocket.

“Of course. There you go. Interpol already knows you’re in town anyway, they just don’t know the location of this safe house.”

Zenigata thanked him with a nod and flipped the phone open. He didn’t know whether Jigen was referring to his bosses knowing about his last mission, or if the gang had called Interpol themselves, but in any case he didn’t even know his precise location, so he couldn’t give it away even if he wanted to. Jigen walked out and closed the door behind him, leaving the inspector to make his phone call in peace.

Zenigata sighed, and did his best to remember the phone numbers saved in his contact list. He had thankfully left his phone at the office before going to the museum, so it hadn’t gotten busted in his little “accident”, but now he had to do everything by memory. The only one he remembered perfectly was Yata’s mobile. He quickly dialled it and held the phone up to his ear, praying that it wasn’t some ungodly hour in Japan right now, and that his assistant would be able to pick up.

The phone didn’t ring for very long, before the young man’s exhausted and annoyed voice came out.

“ _Interpol, Yatagarasu. Who is this?_ ”

“It’s me,” the inspector replied, knowing that his voice would be enough to identify him. “I’m calling from Jigen’s phone.”

Yata’s tone immediately went from tired to equal parts panicked and relieved.

“ _Koich- Inspector! Thank God! Are you alright?_ ”

Zenigata felt a wave of relief wash over him upon hearing the familiar voice of his partner. He chuckled a bit at the panicked use of his first name – Yata normally only called him that when they were alone, which meant he had to be at work right now.

“I’ve been worse, but I’ll live,” he replied, forcing a smile on his lips and hoping that Yata would hear it.

“ _Don’t joke about that_ ,” the young man frowned. “ _I’m in Spain, I’m on my way to La Coruña. There’s a task force ready to come and get you. We won’t let Lupin keep you captive longer_.”

“He’s not keeping me captive,” Zenigata corrected immediately. “He rescued me. I’d probably be… a lot worse right now, without his help.”

“… _Oh_.”

“I’d appreciate if no one tried to arrest him while I’m off the job. Not to mention, he didn’t even steal anything this time.”

Yata’s voice softened when he replied.

“ _Alright. I’m sorry I assumed… It’s just that I was worried sick about you, senpai, and with Lupin around, I assumed the worst._ ” He paused for a second, before adding, in a quieter tone: “ _I’m really glad you’re safe._ ”

“Not as glad as me,” Zenigata replied with an amused smile, despite the grim situation. Yata’s concern was reassuring, and the knowledge that Interpol was ready to come for him and bring him to an actual hospital shed a brighter light on his immediate future. He’d just have to see to it that the police – both local and international – accepted a truce with Lupin and his gang. Once the inspector was back on his feet, their game of cat and mouse could resume, and Zenigata didn’t intend to show any mercy for the thief then. But for now, he had to pay his debt.

“ _Lupin didn’t explain much to me_ ,” Yata said. “ _What happened?_ ”

Zenigata summarized for his assistant how the heist went, and how he had ended up in Lupin’s safe house. Yata had calmed down from his previous panic, but still sounded worried, asking many questions about the inspector’s state and making sure he had everything he needed. In the end, they parted after having agreed that Goro Yatagarasu would be Interpol spokesperson in dealing with Lupin the Third until this whole affair was resolved.

Zenigata’s attention was caught by a loud clicking and whooshing sound outside his room – a door being opened, probably – and several voices rising. The inspector immediately recognized Lupin’s shrilly tone, although he was incapable of making out the words over the distance. He tried to rise up, in a reflexive attempt to jump at the thief and try to arrest him, but he soon gave up – in his state, there wasn’t much he could do. And to be truly honest with himself, he didn’t feel like arresting Lupin right now. That was quite an unusual feeling.

Mere seconds later, Lupin was busting the bedroom door open, a deeply relieved expression washing over his face as he shouted:

“POPS!!!”

Oh how the tables had turned, Zenigata thought with an inward smile.

“Jigen says you’re up and walking again,” he exclaimed. “You should stay in bed, you idiot! You’re only going to hurt yourself further! Are your bandages clean? Have you eaten something?”

“Wow, calm down, Lupin,” Jigen called out and dropped a hand on the thief’s shoulder. “Give ol’ Pops some space to breath, will ya?”

He gently pushed Lupin aside and walked into the room. Zenigata handed him the flip-phone and smiled weakly to Lupin and Goemon, who was peeking in from outside the bedroom, not wanting to crowd the small space even more.

“I’m fine,” the inspector declared. “Thanks to you.”

“It’s nothing, really,” the thief assured him.

“Lupin…”

The thief frowned quizzingly. Zenigata’s voice was hesitant, almost worried. Like he wasn’t sure he truly wanted to have Lupin’s attention.

“Yeah?”

“Why did you do all this?”

Lupin stayed quiet for a second, hesitating. Wasn’t it obvious?

“We couldn’t very well leave you bleeding out on a dirty museum floor, now, could we, Pops?”

“You know very well that you could,” Zenigata retorted. “Or you could have called an ambulance and made away with some random painting. I wouldn’t have been able to catch you.”

Or you could have finished the job the other robbers had started, and never have to worry about me chasing you again, a small voice in the back of Zenigata’s mind added. He smothered it immediately. That was not something Lupin would ever do, he was sure of it by now.

“Look, Pops,” Lupin declared in a soft voice. “If it had been me – or any of us – knocked out back there, what would you have done?”

“That’s easy,” the inspector retorted. That exact scenario had already happened before. “I would have picked you up, made sure you were alright, taken care of you until you were better, and then I’d have arrested you.”

“So why is it so surprising that we’d do the same?”

Because you’re criminals, Zenigata almost replied, but he stopped himself in time. Being criminals didn’t imply being bad people, especially not in Lupin’s case. That was also something he had learned after years of chasing the thief and his little gang.

“…You’re right,” he simply muttered.

“I told you earlier,” Jigen chimed in with a grin. “You might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but you’re our pain in the ass.”

“That’s what you meant by ‘basically family’ ??” Zenigata protested.

Lupin smacked Jigen on the shoulder and chuckled.

“You’re awful, man. At least wait ‘til Pops isn’t here to say that kind of thing.”

“Alright,” Goemon declared as he stepped in and grabbed his partners by the collar. “You two need to leave the inspector alone now.”

The thief protested for the image, but eventually complied and walked out of the room, closely followed by Jigen.

“And stay in bed!” Lupin shouted over the gunman’s shoulder, before Goemon finally closed the door.

Zenigata couldn’t help but smile at the casual friendliness the thieves treated him with, despite them being on opposite side of the law, and everything they had gone through. Or maybe it was because of all those things that they had become so close. They all knew that they remained opposed, and that the chase would continue like it always did, until one of them admitted defeat – which they obviously never would. But their closeness allowed for moments of truce like this one, and Zenigata had to admit that he was grateful for that.

* * *

Two weeks had passed since inspector Zenigata had been admitted into the hospital. It had taken that long until the doctors had agreed to let him go home, but now his injuries were merely uncomfortable reminders when he stretched a bit too much. Soon even that would soon be gone, leaving only a white mark behind to join all the others that already covered his tan skin. At Zenigata’s request (and Yata’s vehement insistence), Interpol had accepted to let Lupin’s gang go after they had brought the inspector to the hospital. The thieves hadn’t stuck around, they had left the country immediately to go only God knows where, but they checked in on the bedridden inspector every other day by phone. Thankfully, Interpol paid the entirety of the hospital bill, seeing as his injuries were work-related. Zenigata wouldn’t have been able to afford it with his miserable pay-checks. Yata had driven him home after the two weeks stay, making sure in advance that the inspector’s flat was cleaned and his shelves stocked, and finally left him there with Zenigata’s word that he would call him if he needed help with anything.

There were still things in the flat that Zenigata had to take care of by himself. Putting away the bag he had brought back from the hospital didn’t take him long. He also had to buy himself a new coat and suit, to replace the ones he had lost, but he put that aside for later. There was a discouraging number of papers in his mailbox, a result of having been away for so long – he was almost sure he normally didn’t receive that much mail. Thankfully it was mostly junk, and he worked through it faster than expected. A thick package caught his attention as he was throwing away an umpteenth flyer for the local pizza joint. He was certain he hadn’t ordered anything in the last month, and had no idea what it might be.

Opening it revealed a folded piece of stretchable fabric, which turned out to be, to the inspector’s great surprise, a binder, almost identical to the one he had lost. It wasn’t accompanied by any note, but that was not necessary. Zenigata remembered now Jigen’s comment about how he would buy him a new one, although he had sort of forgotten about it in the meantime.

There was another envelope hidden under the package, clearly sent at a different time, but the inspector could recognize Lupin’s familiar cursive handwriting on it. It was made of kraft paper and was bulging a bit. He carefully opened it and pulled out a small card, as well as a thick wad of 1000 yen banknotes. Zenigata frowned as he flipped through the wad of cash. Why the hell would Lupin send him that much money? Why would he even send him money in the first place? The hospital bills had already been taken care of, and the thief knew that.

He reached for the card and flipped it over. Lupin’s trademark potato-shaped face was doodled in a corner of the paper. The rest sported only a few short lines.

“ _So that you don’t need that binder anymore._

_With love,_

_-Lupin, Jigen and Goemon._ ”


End file.
